“Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.”
― Oscar Wilde

What is it about sex? Why does it catch everyone’s attention in a way that other subjects do not? Let’s face it if you open a newspaper and there is some scandalous snippet about a well-known politician, do your eyes not immediately wander over to what you might perceive to be something juicy, something to gossip about on the telephone, by the water cooler: “Who would have thought it? Yes, and he’s married with three children!” Sex elicits shock, surprise, disbelief, smugness. It questions morality. It excites. It turns you off. It turns you on. It can bring on a headache. Some can take it, others prefer to leave it. Some will only do it if you put a ring on it. Or so Beyoncé would have us believe.

So what is this three letter word all about? Why is it so pivotal? Is it because we cannot exist without it? We can’t exist without the air we breathe, but does talk of “air”, (incidentally another three letter word) impact the human race in quite the same way as sex does? An article on air and an article on sex? Which do you read first? Air or sex? Sin -an old-fashioned word with religious connotations. Sin too is pivotal to the human condition. Who doesn’t sin each day, intentionally or not. Sin excites, shocks and questions morality, but not in the same way as sex does.

We cannot live without sex. It is central to our lives. And if this is the case, why is it not revered? The association with dirt cannot be denied. When I was growing up, my mother could not say the word “sex”. So I was introduced to menstruation, by being given a little pamphlet about it with the warning: “Don’t fool around boys”. That was the extent of my sex education from the woman who gave birth to me. You would have thought that I would have been given more detailed information from someone who had been there, done it, got the “T” shirt – right? So the shy, confused eleven year-old, was left to negotiate her own sexual journey armed with a pamphlet and an ambiguous statement. What exactly did “don’t fool around boys mean”? Don’t appear to be an idiot in the presence of boys? What would a boy consider to be foolish behaviour?

Sex, sadly is also a commodity. This some would say, beautiful expression of connection between two people can be bought, sold, bartered, negotiated, and disposed of. Sex has been reduced to a retail concern, with economic connotations. Just as you can “pop” to Tesco for your bread, milk and potatoes, you can pop out to buy sex too. Both sustain you. But when was the last time you got excited about spending a night in with your loaf of bread? Isn’t sex more satisfying? Especially with a loved one with whom you’ve forged emotional ties.

So what is sex? A beautiful expression of connection or a physical urge which needs to be satisfied? It would appear to be both. A sexual paradox?

And then, there’s abuse. Using sex to ruin a child’s life. Wrong! Forcing yourself on an individual who does not want to be part of your desire to satisfy your own physical urge. Wrong! How can it be acceptable to be irresponsible about sexual gratification if it involves stealing a child’s right to explore their own sexuality in their own time, at their own pace, when they want to? Yet this is what child molesters, paedophiles, and those inclined to this criminal behaviour would want to impose on those of us who find this reprehensible. This is not sex. This is depravity. Make no bones about that. Once you have stolen someone’s innocence, you might as well have killed them. Yes, I know this is unpalatable for many. But it is the reality. I have to shock you. Because I have no other way of stressing the hurt, the pain, the distress, the emotional turmoil, the mental turmoil, the taking of a valuable life. Who knows what that child, young person would have achieved had they not found it necessary to heal that trauma in later life? Hiding away from the world, instead of boldly shining their light.

So I’ve dealt with “sex” and I’ve touched on “ties”. Now you’re wondering what I’m going to say about “which road to take”. It was in fact a play on the words “Sex, Lies and Videotape”, that well known film starring Andie Mcdowell and James Spader. I have nothing more to say than I hope you appreciate my pun.

I know so little about you. I do regret that and I wonder if it is possible to go back while there is still time. But is there still time? And if there is, what would I ask you and would you answer me truthfully, or would you continue to evade my curious, questionning heart,confuse, abuse, lose me in that maze, that maze that you constructed, stiff, stifling, solid walls around you, saying “keep out!”.

Who mothered you? Who fathered you? Who were your friends? Who struck you? Where did your rage come from? At whose hands did you learn to fight, bite, keep tight, never lose sight of the anger, hold it, nurture it, feed it, plead with it to keep you safe, safe from the hurt and the pain which surely must have followed you doggedly in your formative years?

My tears, my fears, the passing years, heaped in a pile in a bundle in the centre of my heart. I keep meaning to have a clear out, but I don’t have the strength to tackle that bundle, so I trundle along in the hope that one day soon, I’ll march in, take hold, unfold all those offending garments, toss them into a place where I can see them for what they are: questions, questions with no answers. No answers.

I have known you for years untold and yet I do not know you. You have been in my heart, never too far apart, lingering languidly upon my lips, in my thoughts, in my prayers and layer after layer of you is impressed upon my being. I need to forgive myself for not getting to know you. I need to forgive you for not letting me get to know you.

This amazing poem at the end of this post: “A Princess on Every Street” by Kendall F. Person has made me focus on the real problems faced today by children. What insight! How very well articulated and more to the point how very true. So many of us are the product of such a sometimes cruel world. The third verse particularly resonates with me. So many small girls (“princesses”) and boys (princes) walk among us feeling the pain of abuse, childhoods stolen, unable to speak of their pain because they are children. Many can only articulate their pain well into old age or perhaps never at all. Stolen lives – what an absolute tragedy! Today let us think about those princes and “princesses” and allow our thoughts to heal their wounds. A Question often asked by the abused are “Why (Did you hurt me)? They struggle with the pain for years “When Pain Came to Stay”. They don’t understand how to deal with the “monster” – their abuser. I hope that my poems will touch the hearts of many of you today.

Five Stroke Fourteen (or Look what you’ve made me do to you)

The monster sits beside me

He has a caring expression on his face

“Look what you’ve made me do to you”, he says

But I shrink from his imminent embrace

Because I know

Deep within my spirit

He seeks to control me

The monster touches my bruised and battered face

He did it

In a fit

Of rage!

His hunger for control to assuage

Because I know

Deep within my spirit

He seeks to control me

And control me he does

Because he knows

That I won’t tell

And I won’t yell

“Monster!”

Because I know

Deep within my spirit

He seeks to control me

Slowly, slowly I come to realise

I am nothing, but a punch-bag in his eyes

A thing of beauty to despise

But now I bravely rise

Casting off the fears

Releasing uncontrollable tears

Standing tall and proud

No longer wearing sorrow as a shroud

I am free, free to be Me

Copyright Marie Williams – July 2009

When Pain Came to Stay

I am old and grey, and wiser now,

But does the pain go away?

No it stays another day.

Why does it stay for another day

When I want this pain to go away?

This pain has been my friend

He moved in with me many years ago

I don’t remember asking him to stay

In fact I barely knew his name

But he took the best room in the house

I was only 5, when Pain knocked on the door

“Who are you”, I said, no screamed!

A kick, then a punch, and my body flew

Through the air, Pain was not happy

To leave it there, He needed to leave his mark

Seemed like hours and hours

The hurt and the struggle

Knocking me, knocking me

Hurting me, the tears and the fears

Were born that day

And how that child pain grew

From strength to strength

And day to day, what could I do

To make pain pack his bags and leave

So that I could be so happy and free

I’ll never know why Pain chose me

I guess that will always be a mystery

All I know is that it fed off me

And almost brought me to death’s door

The day pain came to stay with me

At last Pain has decided to go

And will I miss Him? Oh gosh no!

But am I stronger for his stay; did I triumph after all?

Put it this way, the locks to that door have been changed

And Pain no longer holds a key

Copyright Marie Williams – March 2009

WHY (Did you hurt me)?

What is the question?

Why do you ask the question?

I ask because I want to know

The answer means that I can go

To a place, a place of peace

A place where I’ll be able to rest

Safe in the knowledge that at last I

Can say I know the reason why

Is it important to ask?

You will say

Or is it better to know the why

How will it improve your day?

You say

Do you think the hurts will dissolve?

At last will you gain some resolve

Will the problem go away?

Or will it be the same anyway?

Now you confuse me

It’s as if you abuse me

By appearing to challenge

The extent of the damage

Why do you not see?

That the innermost core

Of my tortured soul

Seeks only to know why it pains me

Seems best not to ask the reason why

Best to let the problem die

Best to move forward

And that will be your reward!

A Princess on Every Street
by Kendall F. Person

There is a princess on every street.
We know who they are by their smiling faces,
and silver braces.
We see the pretty dresses that they wear,
and the adorable ponytails arranged of their hair.
We see them skipping down the walk,
headed off to school,
and ready for the world
because they are daddy’s little girl.

There is a princess on every street.
In the broken down apartment buildings,
and in the houses that blot the streets.
We know who they are,
even if they rarely come outdoors
by the songs they sing,
like The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow,
and other wishful things.

There is a princess on every street. Living with abusers
intent on robbing them of a childhood and a future.
We know who they are from the sadness in their eyes
and the bruises on their faces,
that hide the truth in memorized excuses.
We watch them fail their classes
lost concentration, partly to blame.
We feel them close down, isolating themselves
blocking out the world, but still living with the pain.

Clean and dirty, homeless and rich.
Every color of the rainbow,
in every country on earth.
There is a princess on every street.
And the little girls that do not know this,
please deliver to them this message
and let them know…. they are a Princess too.

The Neighborhood Proudly Presents

‘Our Featured Presentation: When the Abuse Stopsa collaborative work with a survivor and her supportive husband